Me: (singsong) Almost to 50 reviews... almost to 50 reviews...
Char: You're awfully happy.
Me: I am! I did well at my swimmeet today, and I'm confident that I'll do better tomorrow. And - big surprise - I've almost got 50 reviews for this fic, which is much more than I expected given that most people in this fandom are yaoi fangirls with the attention spans of a chicken nugget!
Char: o.O If it weren't for that insult at the end, I would've asked who you were and what you'd done with Saf.
Me: ANYWAY! On with it!
Disclaimer- In the words of Sora, this is really getting old. I don't own this game and we all know it.
When Sora and the others got used to the glow of the sun outside, they saw a certain satyr standing with his back to them. Without turning around, Phil began to speak.
"Hey champ, how you feeling? Better rest up for tomorrow's match. Nobody's gonna pay to see a worn-out hero… capiche?"
Sora glanced at Donald and Goofy and stifled a giggle. Phil had the habit of mistaking them with Hercules, but it was just too amusing to let the satyr ramble on and on.
"Remember what I told you," Phil went on, and they could see his finger lift as if in admonishment. "Winning the games comes down to two simple words: Eat, bathe, sleep!"
Goofy blinked and lifted his hand, counting the words off on his fingers. He chortled when the amounts came out to be uneven, and Sora and Donald joined him.
Phil stiffened at hearing the laughter and turned to properly punish whoever was laughing at him. "Heeeeey, what's so –" He cut himself off upon seeing who he was talking to. "Well, if it ain't the Junior Heroes!" he greeted, trotting up to them with a smile on his goat-like face.
Sora grinned back. "Looking good, Phil."
"Have you earned your 'true hero' wings yet?"
Sora and Goofy hesitated, but Donald instantly opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, Phil waved his hand in dismissal. "Nope, you ain't got what it takes."
Donald growled and looked away, crossing his arms indignantly, but said nothing.
"So, what's up? What brings you guys back here?"
Sora sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He thought of Char, sitting back in the lobby trying to stand the pain, and spoke. "It's… kind of a long story."
Phil shrugged. "Hey, I've got time."
"I'll just cut to the chase, I guess. Hades hurt our friend and she needs someplace to stay while we go take him down."
At the first part, Phil's eyes had widened in sympathy, but by the time Sora had finished his sentence, the satyr was roaring in laughter, clutching his sides. "Hahaha! You three are gonna take down Hades?"
Donald put his hands on his hips and quacked angrily. "What's so funny?"
At last, Phil sighed, wiping his eyes. "Well, you got nerve. I like that. And hey, if it's for a friend, I guess I'll help you all the way. You never know; stranger things have happened, right?"
Sora thought of him and Char, shaking hands back on the Gummi ship, and realized that he wholeheartedly agreed.
"Better get cracking, then!" Phil said, and gestured to the golden pots behind him. "Alright, so you wanna train, huh? I'm gonna work you all hard!"
"Like we'd expect anything less," Sora smiled, taking out the Hidden Dragon.
Phil suddenly made a sound of realization. "Oh yeah, speaking of your Keyblade…" He reached behind one of the coliseum's columns and withdrew a shining silver chain that glittered in the afternoon sun. The charm attached to the end of the chain, casting an almost blinding light, was shaped vaguely like a coin.
"I found this while going with Herc to Olympus," Phil went on, while Sora stared at the Keychain. The satyr handed it to the Keybearer, who continued to look at it, his head tilted slightly to the side and a look in his blue eyes. "Think it'll help?"
The brunette looked back at Phil and nodded gratefully. "Yeah. Thanks a lot."
Phil rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Alright then, Junior Heroes. Let's see what ya got!"
"I wish he'd stop calling us that…" Donald muttered, readying his staff.
As the training began, Donald and Goofy dashed off in different directions, the former lifting his rod and crying out as lightning struck the pots and scattered orbs everywhere; the latter rushed head-on through the sea of yellow, bashing his shield up against the pots and grunting in triumph when he scored successful hits. Sora readied his blade and raced forward, slashing and whipping the flame-colored sword through the arrangement of pots. He remembered vaguely how, the first time he had trained like this, he had been worried that Phil would have nothing else to train Hercules with; but then the satyr had informed him that he had an infinite number of supplies, and even if they ran out, the gods were more than willing to give more.
Must be convenient, to be able to be so sure of that. Sora hadn't been sure of anything in what felt like eons. Again he reminded himself that this time, he had a third companion, fiercely loyal and ready to stand by his side forever if need be. For some reason, this made him feel warm.
He dodged the pot that was rotating slowly toward him, using the momentum to strike out with the Keyblade. The golden object smashed into bits with a satisfying crunching noise. Outside the training area, Phil was nodding approvingly and scribbling something down in a tan-papered notepad.
A flash of red from his peripheral vision caught Sora's eye. Without even looking, he knew it was Char, because no one else had quite that shade of dark crimson hair. He maneuvered himself into a part of the training area where no pots were so he could see what was going on. Char was grimacing in pain and limping heavily, with one hand pressed against the wall for balance, but she was walking all the same. Sora felt a mixture of pride and disapproval at seeing this, pride that she could stand the pain of the burn, and disapproval that she was undoubtedly irritating the wound. When Char had come to stand near the middle of the training ground, she plopped heavily on the ground, carefully holding her weight away from her injured leg, and watched, her elbow propped up on the upraised knee of her other leg.
Sora didn't know why, but he suddenly felt an odd urge. He whirled around and whipped his Keyblade in a circle, smashing several pots in the process. In the same motion, he rolled under the remaining pots and lashed out into them, leaving none remaining.
"Not bad, kid," Phil said, coming up and writing something else on his pad.
"Thanks," Sora answered breathlessly.
"Yeah, you did a pretty good job," Char conceded. Sora looked over and saw an expression of unmistakable jealousy on her face. He couldn't hold back the grin that took over his countenance, and Char narrowed her eyes in response, promptly masking her anger at being left out of the action.
Donald and Goofy eventually came to stand beside Sora. The duck glared at Sora, clearly angry at him for having finished first, but then his gaze landed on Char.
"Char, are you sure you should be walking around?" he asked, raising a feathery eyebrow.
Char rolled her eyes in response. "I wanted to watch you guys train. Is there a problem?"
Phil looked somewhat amused at the exchange between Char and Donald, but he just turned to Sora. "Meh, well, you still haven't become a 'true hero' yet. Keep workin' on it."
At that moment, the doors to the coliseum opened, and there was Hercules. Sora knew with a feeling of dread what had happened before the hero even spoke, because Hercules' shoulders were slumped and his gaze on the ground.
Phil turned away. "Listen, I gotta take off for a bit."
"Where to?" asked Sora.
"None of your beeswax." With that, the satyr strode off into the lobby.
"Geez, what's his deal?" Char muttered.
They all looked to Hercules, even Char, who undoubtedly held no part in whatever he was going to say.
"Sorry, guys," he said, lifting his head to look helplessly at them. He raised and lowered his shoulders. "The Olympus stone has been stolen."
"What?" Donald and Goofy cried.
"By who?" Char demanded.
Hercules looked dubiously at her, but promptly glanced back to Sora, clearly preferring to exchange glances with old friends than an angered Char Nightblaze. "I'm not sure," he said. "All we're sure of is that it was a guy in a black-hooded cloak. And he had accomplices – a bunch of creatures in white."
Sora couldn't hold back his gasp, and he looked at Char, who nodded firmly in response. The Organization.
"Someone you know?" asked Hercules, seeing their unease.
"Something like that," Char muttered, staring at the ground.
"Hey, um…" Sora hated to take advantage of someone's hospitality, but unfortunately it was all they had to go on at the moment. "If we retrieve the Olympus stone, can we borrow it for a while?"
Hercules nodded. "Sure. By the way, um… have you seen Meg around lately?"
Sora felt a pang of guilt as they all shook their heads. Hercules sighed and stared determinedly at a beetle crawling on the ground.
"What's wrong, Your Hero-ness?" came a sudden voice, causing everyone to jump. "Feeling a little under the weather?" These words were followed by a sardonic cackle that echoed around the arena. Sora recognized the voice immediately as that of Hades, and unconsciously reached for the Keychain Phil had given him.
The lord of the dead appeared in a burst of flame next to Hercules and smiled in supposed welcome at the others, nonchalantly placing a hand on the hero's shoulder. "You know," he remarked, examining the nails of his free hand, "I thought staying in perfect shape was part of the hero job description… you know what I'm saying?" Hercules jolted and ducked away from Hades' cold hand.
"I came to share a bit of mildly interesting news," the lord of the dead went on, glancing briefly toward Sora and the others. His smirk widened when he saw Char, who could barely hold herself up as it was.
"Huh," he commented. "Looks like my little gift to Key-boy here left a mark on his little princess." His lips quirked wider. "How romantic."
"Shut up," Char snarled, calling her twin blades. "I'm not his damn princess and you both know it."
Hades tsked. "Temper, temper, now. Gosh, what is with all you people insulting me today?"
Sora narrowed his eyes and approached him, not without a feeling of trepidation. "Hades, we need to talk."
The lord of the dead looked uninterestedly over at the Keybearer, who clenched his fist and glared back evenly. With a single flick of one blue finger, Sora was knocked to the ground.
"Manners," Hades said chidingly. "Oh, and by the way, you might want to hide your trembling hand next time."
Sora lifted his head and glared at him, holding his fist closer to his side.
"Sora, you okay?" Char asked, giving him a sidelong glance. "You know… aside from the whole 'male pride' thing."
"Yeah," Sora muttered in response.
Hades looked back at Hercules. "Seems your dear, sweet little Nutmeg went and got herself lost in the Underworld."
"You mean you kidnapped her!" Hercules growled in reply.
"Well, maybe… But why get caught up in the details?" Hades shrugged.
Hercules' face twisted briefly into a look of pure anger; then he whistled loudly. Within a matter of seconds, a magnificent winged horse came soaring over the coliseum and landed at the hero's side, beautiful azure mane fluttering slightly in the breeze.
"Uh-uh-uh!" Hades chided, as Hercules stepped up to Pegasus' side. "You can't leave now, okay?"
"And why shouldn't he?" Char couldn't help but ask. Even though this called his intimidating gaze back to her and made her cringe a little, she still continued, "I mean, come on. You've kidnapped his girlfriend, attacked his friends, and, um, let me think – crippled someone else!"
The word "crippled" was spat out with such anger, such aversion, that even Hades took a step back. "Whoa, calm down there, girlie," he said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. "He's got a match against the bloodthirsty Hydra, is all. I mean, if he doesn't stick around…" He smirked at Hercules. "Who knows what other 'accidents' might happen."
"Accidents you cause," Donald cut in angrily.
"Again – details? Who needs 'em?"
"Bloody coward," Char spat.
"Ah, well," Hades replied loftily. "We can't all be heroes." With that, he snapped his fingers and was gone.
The redhead clenched her fist and stared furiously at the ground. "Man, I hate him."
Sora put a hand on her shoulder, but she just jerked away. "Look," the brunette tried to reassure her, "we'll go put him in his place, get Meg back, and take care of that Organization guy, too."
"Thanks, guys," Hercules smiled in relief. "I owe you all big time."
Char let out another "che" of resentment, crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, off into the clouds. Goofy noticed the muscles of her jaw flex in anger and felt a surge of sympathy for her. (1)
"Yeah, leave it to us!" Donald added. "We're heroes!"
"Junior heroes," Goofy reminded his friend.
"You take care of the Hydra," Sora said to Hercules. "And keep Char safe. We'll take care of the rest."
Char muttered something under her breath about how she didn't need protection, but otherwise said nothing.
"I'm counting on you," said Hercules.
"But no pressure," the redhead added.
Sora suppressed a chuckle at Char's never-failing cynicism. Hercules turned to Pegasus. "You gotta find Meg," he said urgently to the horse. Pegasus nodded and, flapping his wings, rose into the air and over the coliseum.
Sora, Donald, and Goofy turned and headed for the Underworld entrance, but not before Sora had cast another Cura spell on Char's leg. He looked back anxiously and saw Hercules helping her into the lobby.
She'll be fine, the Keybearer reminded himself. She's Char; she can take care of herself.
But something else still nagged at him, something he couldn't put a name to.
What was it?
Char stared absently at the walls of the lobby, trying subconsciously to put a name to the color. Saffron, cream, gold… hell, even yellow would do. Or maybe orange?
She suddenly groaned and pressed against the wall, hitting her head against it in the process; she reached up and pushed her bangs out of her eyes, wincing at the pain that had shot through her head. But, as Braig would say, at least it distracted you from your leg, right?
My leg… damn Hades back to the hell he came from. Just remembering how the lord of the dead had talked to her made Char clench her fist even tighter and let out a snarl. She looked down at her hand and noticed that her fingers had turned practically white with her anger. Slowly, she let them uncurl, not willing to relinquish the feeling just yet.
The last time she had been this angry was not long after Riku had joined her and DiZ. After saying something unsavory to her – oddly she couldn't remember what it was; she only remembered that it had had something to do with Kairi, not being like her – Riku had avoided Char like a plague for what felt like years, and she had gladly returned the favor. She remembered wondering what was wrong with her; wanting to talk to Riku again but having the memory of what he had said as an obstacle; sitting lonely and shivering in her too-big bed in her too-big room in that too-big mansion. Just remembering it made her sigh and put her chin against her knees.
Riku… Man, I miss him…
But this wasn't comparable with what had happened with Riku, she knew. Before, things had been petty, easily patched up with time. Now, she realized she faced losing the use of her leg even with Sora's eager application of Cura spells, and even if she was lucky she would walk with a slight limp for the rest of her life. Just thinking about it ripped another furious cry from Char's throat and caused her to hit her fist against the wall.
She could hear the cheering outside and knew that Hercules must be facing the Hydra right now. Part of her wanted to go out and watch, as she had never seen any sort of coliseum match, other than the vivid simulation her novels had put into her mind. Yet the more rational part of her told her to stay put. That was exactly what Hades wanted, was for her to go outside and get provoked by the sight of battle.
So, as it was, the only choice she had was to stare at the ground, face pressed against her upraised knees, and torture herself with wondering what Sora and the others were doing.
Sora. For some reason, the thought of that stupid Key-boy, getting his strength sapped and taking down Pete's Heartless and doing gods only knew what, made Char's chest grow tight. She recalled what she had told herself back in the Underworld cavern, that she would be sad if Sora died. She felt a surge of rebellious anger at realizing that that was true. While she wouldn't call them friends in the truest sense of the word, socializing with Sora had been inevitable either way, and, planned or not, it looked like that socializing was starting to take a sharp U-turn to friendly. Char knew that, at the moment, she desperately just needed a friend, someone just to talk to and be with when things got rough.
She realized that her fist had started to clench again, and surfaced briefly from her thoughts to feel a jolt of pain shake her leg. For what felt like the umpteenth time today she wished that she had some healing magic, even if it was the weakest kind.
The dull roar of cheering outside grew to an almost deafening crescendo, causing Char to wince and put her free hand to her ear. Hercules must have defeated the Hydra.
She stared at the wall, anger pulsing through her in hot waves as she reflected that she was the only one of the group with nothing she could do. It made her want to scream, to rip her hair out, to hit her head against the wall until she couldn't feel the pain of that stupid wound anymore. But, like many times before, she held herself back. It wouldn't do, to get this far with Sora and his group, only to succumb to her own temper.
For no particular reason, the subject of the wall color went through her mind again, causing her to stare intently at it. Living with DiZ had taught her not only scientific things, but linguistics and reading as well; while she may not agree with her master's methods, she could not deny that he was a damn good teacher. Not only had he taken her in as a lost child, wandering disoriented with no parents to speak of, but he had also introduced her to the concept of family.
Family… and other stuff, too. Char sighed inwardly, thinking of Ienzo, the student closest to her own age and formerly her best friend. The knowledge that turning into a Nobody had undoubtedly ripped his friendly, eager nature to shreds left a hollow feeling in her chest.
She looked back down at the ground as she remembered the last memory of him before he turned into a Nobody.
She tapped a pencil idly on the desk, sighing to herself and staring at the clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock… the hands almost seemed to refuse to go forward. The tapping of the pencil rang through the air and she concentrated on keeping up the rhythm.
"Hey Char!" Braig suddenly came through the doorway, causing the redhead to let out a shriek of surprise. She twisted toward him so rapidly that she almost fell over on her desk. Braig ignored this – in fact, if anything, a pleased smirk hovered on his face at seeing his fellow apprentice so flustered – and continued, "How're you doing on that paper Old Man Ansem assigned us?"
Char glared at her self-proclaimed rival. While both Master and Aeleus believed in the policy that everyone should get along, with Braig and Char, that concept was totally foreign. Their relationship consisted mainly of throwing pencils at each other, doodling Heartless all over each other's work, and insulting one another. "First of all, don't do that while I'm trying to think; you nearly gave me a damn heart attack, and contrary to what you seem to believe, no one likes that. Second of all, to answer your question, I was trying to start it when you so rudely barged in here and scared the living crap out of me."
"Aw, did I touch a nerve?" Braig tapped a gloved finger against his temple in mock contemplation, causing Char to narrow her eyes. "Stupid me."
"Damn straight." Char looked back down at her work, then abruptly raised her pencil up. "Aha! I know what I'm gonna write about. I'll give a grueling, biting analysis of how just because two people live together, that doesn't mean they have to get along."
Braig shrugged, pretending not to understand the jab. "Ansem said it's not a persuasive paper, so we can't do that. Besides, you know him: he'd just scribble down some crap about how 'biased' and 'immaterial' that kind of thing is, and maybe something about how he can take a hint."
Char growled and lowered her pencil. "Why do you enjoy shooting me down?"
"'Cause it's fun." Braig smirked.
The redhead rolled her eyes and, adjusting her glasses, looked back down at the still-blank paper. "How did I know."
"Well," Braig said, turning away, "I think I've had my fun." Before Char could seize him by his ponytail and demand what the hell was going on, he had stridden out of the room.
She gripped her bangs in an angry fist and sighed, lowering her hand so the hair fell rebelliously back over her eyes again. "Man, I hate that guy."
"Hi Char!" Once again, Char jumped in shock, but this time she restrained a scream like the previous one. She glared over her shoulder, fully ready to dismember whoever dared interrupt the results of her procrastination. Her eyes softened and her muscles relaxed when she saw the mop of gray hair.
"Hey, Ienzo," she sighed.
Ienzo tilted his head to the side. He was holding something behind his back and had had a broad grin on his face, but at the tone of her voice it faltered slightly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she muttered, tapping her pencil again, this time to the beat of one of Xehanort's favorite songs. "I-it's not that I don't want to see you or anything…" She lowered her head slightly, trying to cover the reddening of her cheeks with her hair.
Ienzo blinked. "Oh, I know that." He looked sympathetically at her. "Braig bothering you again?"
"Isn't that always the problem?"
"Good point," Ienzo laughed, but he sounded a little nervous.
Char dropped the pencil on the desk. She pivoted around in her chair to face him, raising one eyebrow. "Ienzo…?" she asked, in an anticipative kind of way.
Realizing his mistake, the boy blushed and then looked away. Char could still see the crimson on his face through his bangs. "Um, what?"
"You want something. Spit it out." She regretted the harshness of her words the instant she had finished, because Ienzo cringed a little before meeting her eyes again. His blue-gray eyes were wide, as though even looking at her was an effort.
"W-well…" He brought his hand out from behind his back, and Char's eyes widened when she saw what he held. There in his trembling fist were three stems of pure white flowers, still dripping with water, with tendrils of white curling off to the sides of the petals.
"Ienzo?" she asked quietly, feeling her pulse kick up. "What are those?"
He met her eyes evenly, though his own eyes were hesitant. For some reason, that annoyed her; she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and repeat her orders for him to just tell her, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to move.
"Um, Char? I… I brought a flower for you…" he mumbled.
"Wow," she managed at last. "W-where did you get those?"
Ienzo shrugged and gave her one of his rare smirks, if not a little tentatively. "Let's just say I have my sources."
He held the flowers out, looking insistently at her. After a few moments of staring at the flowers and gaping like a dying fish, Char finally regained her composure long enough to lift herself from her chair on leaden limbs. Reaching out, she took the flowers from him, her fingers briefly brushing his as she moved away. Ienzo stared determinedly at a fixed point on one of the action figures on the shelves.
"Thanks," she murmured, still in shock. At this point, her mind had almost completely shut down but for the part that let her form speech, too in shock at what was happening. It didn't help that her stupid heart was still hammering away at its position in her chest.
Before either of them could say anything, Braig had burst into the room again. "Char, have you seen the…" His voice trailed off as he looked from Char, to Ienzo, then back again. A lecherous grin was already starting to form on his countenance.
Crap. Char hid the flowers behind her back. "Look, Braig…"
"Dude!" the older apprentice cackled. "Ienzo brought you flowers? And, hang on a sec…" He craned his neck to look behind her, then threw his head back and laughed even more.
Char snarled at him, "What's so funny?!"
"Oh, just that Ienzo got you honeysuckles, of all things." Braig shook his head. "Damn, dude – you've got it bad, haven't you?" (2)
Ienzo hung his head, which apparently was answer enough. Braig raced off into the hallways of the Postern, probably to tell everyone else.
Char looked confusedly at Ienzo. "What's so special about honeysuckles?"
Ienzo just looked away. "I-I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that…" He smiled weakly at her. "Now he'll be telling everyone in Hollow Bastion that we're…"
But his voice trailed off. Char stared at him. "We're?"
He was already gone.
Char remembered that later that day, she had asked DiZ what exactly honeysuckles symbolized, though not exactly in as eloquent of terms. He had merely laughed and said – and she recalled this most vividly of all – "I'm surprised you're the only one who does not know what it symbolizes!"
She had looked it up and been shocked at the meaning of those beautiful flowers Ienzo had given her. Even now she felt a sharp pin prick her heart and her throat become obstructed when she remembered seeing those words in print. Devoted Affection.
A sardonic laugh made its way past the choking feeling. Ironic, because not long after that, she had discovered the Heartless setting mercilessly upon Braig, Ienzo, and the others.
She slammed her fist into the wall again and clenched her teeth. And I just stood by and watched.
Suddenly she realized that the cheering outside had died down, to an almost deafening silence that, in a way, was worse than when they had been roaring in excitement.
Guess everybody left already… She put a hand against the wall and got slowly to her feet, her breathing becoming ragged at the pain it caused her leg. "I wonder if Hercules is back yet…" she wondered aloud.
At that moment, a roar suddenly rang through the air, rending it with its cacophonic quality and – Char couldn't quite catch the tone – triumph?
Her heart sank as she recognized it. Oh no.
Ignoring the agony that shot through her, she ran unsteadily outside, nearly getting crushed between the lobby doors in her haste to get through them. What she saw made her gasp in shock and, for some reason, guilt.
(1) I really will stop doing that Kanda thing, I swear.
(2) Yet again, one of my subplots is ganked from .hack/G.U.